French's International Copj'righted (in England, her Col- 
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'^3^^^= No. 398 

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Copy 1 

THE 
HOME-MAKERS 

B iplap of the ipilgrims 
in dbrcc 2lcts 

BY 

M. B. VOSBURGH 

Amateurs may produce this play without payment 
of royalty. All other rights reserved. 

Copyright, 1920, by Samuel French 



PRICE, 30 CEMTS 



XKW YORK LONDON 

Samuel French j Samuel French, Ltd. 
Publislier 26 Southampton Street 

28-30 West 38th Street I Strand 



The Home-Makers 

« 

A PLAY OF THE PILGRIMS 

IN THREE ACTS 



BY 

MAUDE B. VOSBURGH 



Amateurs may produce this play without payment of 
royalty. All other rights reserved. 



Copyright, 1930, by Samuel French 



New York: 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 
38-30 West 38th Street 



London : 

SAMUEL FRENCH. Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 

Strand 






The First Act 

The Mayflower in Plymouth Harbor. Looking 
toward the new home. The morning of Sunday, 
January 14, 162 1, Old Style. 

The Second Act 

At home with the Pilgrims in Plymouth. The 
morning of April 5, 1621. Elder Brewster's home. 

The Third Act 

The departure of the Mayflower. A new Eng- 
land : — for better for worse. The afternoon of the 
same day. The same home. 



&VVJ 56063 

NOV 20 1920 



THE PERSONS IN THE PLAY 

Governor John Carver — over 50 years of age. 

Mistress Katherine Carver — his wife. 

Elder William Brewster — about 55 years. 

Mistress Mary Brewster— his wife. 

Wrestling Brewster — 13, L, ■ * 

LoveBrewster-ii, Mthe.rsons. 

William Bradford — 31. 

Edward Winslow — 26. 

Captain Miles Standish — 36. 

John Billington — from London. 

Ellen Billington — his wife. 

John Billington — 12, > th * - 

Francis Billington — 10, 3 

Mistress Susanna White — 25, and her infant 

Peregrine, born early in December. 
Priscilla Mullins — about 17. 
Mary Chilton — about the same age. 
Squanto — probably over 30. 
Remember Allerton — about 10. 
Mary Allerton — younger than her sister. 
Captain Jones — Master of the Mayflower. 
Thomas — an English sailor. 
Martin — another sailor. 



DRESS OF THE CHARACTERS 

The men wear dark coats with white neck-bands, 
knee-breeches, and long stockings. Governor Car- 
ver also wears a long, full cape. Captain Standish 
is dressed like a Dutch soldier, with cordovan leather 
boots, corselet, and helmet, and sword and musket. 
All the men have their hair cut short. Captain 
Jones and the sailors wear the gay dress of Eliza- 
bethat) seamen. 

The women wear ankle-length skirts and plain, 
long-waisted bodices of dark blue, brown, gray or 
purple. In the First Act, their large white kerchiefs 
are topped by smaller ones which are tightened snug 
around the throat by a necktie and bow; on their 
heads are dark silk or velvet caps or hoods. In 
the Second and Third Acts, their kerchiefs are open 
at the neck, and their caps, aprons, and turned-back 
cufifs are of white linen or cambric. Remember and 
Mary wear dresses patterned like the women's, but 
of gayer colors, perhaps violet and dark red. 

The boys wear coarse smocks and soft felt hats. 
The boys' parts could be played by girls. 



The Home-Makers 



ACT I 

Scene. The middle deck of the Mayfiozver, at 
anchor in Plymouth Harbor, At the r. of the 
spectator rises the high poop deck with two 
low doors, which open aft into the passengers' 
quarters: at the l., a similar tvall of the high 
forecastle where lived the crew. Connecting 
the walls are open railings about three feet 
high, both front and rear of the stage. The 
deck is clear except for a coil of rope at the 
R., an empty hogshead, two or three stools, and 
a boat-hook. A new day is dazvning. 

Thomas, a fat, hearty sailor, lies dozing on 
a coil of rope with a lighted lantern beside him. 
From the forecastle, Martin comes on deck, 
chilled by the cold air. 

Martij . Rouse up, Thomas. Day is dawning. 
The wind's brisk 

Thomas. (Drozvsily) Ay, Martin ! 'Tis bitter . 
January weather 

Martin. (Looking off) Any camp-fires of the 
savages ? 

Thomas. Not a sign o' h'fe. 

Martin. They may be warming themselves by 
their prayers this Sunday morning, like our pas- 

7 



8 THE HOME-MAKERS 

sengers. Strange no natives of this place have yet 
appeared. 

Thomas. Ay, but wait till they do come ; they'll 
come with a whoop ! or else steal up on you without 
a sound, — and cut off your joints, — and broil 'em 
on the coals 

Martin. Oh, wake up, Tom, you are dream- 
ing The fields where the natives have gotten 

corn show it must have been inhabited four or five 
years ago. 

Thomas. (Rising and blowing out the lantern) 
Ay, all the fitter to turn these Planters »and their 
goods ashore and leave 'em ; it is time we were done 
with 'em. 

Martin. Ready to put to sea again, Thomas? 

Thomas. Ay, glad I'll be when we weigh anchor 
and point the Mayflower toward England. (Rising 
and coming forzvard) We have had enough of this. 
When we go to land, we wade in icy water up to 
our knees ; then it's (Mimics sneezing) from the 
poop, and (Mimics coughing) from the forecastle 
till you'd swear we were the great choir of St. Paul's 
practising the Te Deum. (Business of sneezing and 
coughing) If we go inland, we march through one 
prickly wood after another. When we complairj of 
being torn to pieces with the boughs and bushes, 
Zounds ! back we travel to plod through the sea- 
sands till we are out o' breath. And not a drink o' 
beer ashore to comfort us. 

Martin. Why, man, we were looking for fresh 
water ! 

Thomas. And me, a-dreaming of a tavern in 
Southampton. These mad passengers may follow 
the deer-tracks to the springs, if they will, aftd drink 
the drink of beasts. I am a mariner of old England, 
I am, and I want my beer. (The sailors straighten 
Out the coil of rope) 



THE HOME-MAKERS 9 

Martin. (Moodily) There would be more 
aboard for us sailors if our captain had not played 
the host on Christmas Day. 

Thomas. That paid, Martin, that paid, to see 
next day the faces of the poor wretches who spent 
Christmas felling" timber ashore when we told 'em 
their companions who stayed aboard had beer 
a-plenty for once this winter. (Laughs) Their 
faces were as solemn as on Saturday at sun- 
down. 

Martin. Was'tnot Christmas night they heard 
the noise of Indians? 

Thomas. Ay, marry it was. I stick to the ship 
from now on. Scarce as the beer is and poor as be 
the victuals, I'll fill my friendly belly with anything 
save Indian arrows. 

Martin. I'll be hanged if I wouldn't sooner be 
baptized by a Bishop than scalped by an Indian. 
I'm a loyal subject of our Sovereign Lord King 
James, and England is good enough for me. 

Thomas. Amen to that. 

CRemember and Mary Allerton peep out from a 
door of the poop and run on deck, glad to he 
free from restraint. The sun rises as the chil- 
dren frolic) 

Remember. When's breakfast? I'm hungry. 

Mary. So am I. 

Remember. (To Martin j Can't I have a bis- 
cuit ? 

Martin. Have you said prayers? 

Remember. Yes, we've had all our prayers 

Martin. Then you've had enough to last you 
awhile. 

Mary. . OhT'I wish I had some milk. Remember. 

Remember. Why, Mary ! what makes you ask 



y 



lo THE HOME-MAKERS 

for milk? We have had no milk for four months, 
not since we came forth from England. 

Mary. I know it, Remember. But I do wish I 
had some. Don't you suppose there may be wild 
cows in this country ? 

Remember. Perchance. The men heard lions 
roaring one night. 

Mary. (With conviction) li there are lions, 
there are cows. 

fJoHN and Francis burst in from the poop) 

Francis. I saw a whale. (The children and 
sailors hurry to the seaward rail) 

Remember. Where? Francis, where? 

Francis. Over there. See? 

Mary. Is it a whale? Do whales give milk? 

Francis. No, you silly. 

Remember. Perchance it does, Mary. You 
don't know everything, Francis Billington! 

John. A whale, a whale! 

(The two Brewster boys rush in) 

Wrestling. Where ? Where ? Do you see her. 
Love ? 

John. There, Wrestling! There she blows. 
Oh ! 

Martin. She's a big un, as heavy as the May- 
floiver, I warrant. 

Remember. Alas, she's swimming away! 

Love. Oh, I wish we had a harping-iron. 

Francis. (To Thomas j Why didn't we bring 
a harping-iron? 

Thomas. Why didn't ye bring a harping-iron 
to catch whales? Hanged if I know. Why didn't 
ye bring a small hook to catch herring? And ye 



THE HOME-MAKERS ii 

talk about whales ! Like father like son ! Great 
fishermen are ye! to live on the seacoast! Why 
didn't ye bring a net large enough to catch cod? 
or anything else ye needed ! (The children horn- 
hard him in their indignation, while he holds them 
off, amused at their resentment ) 

Wrestling. We did! We brought everything 
we needed. We brought meal 

Remember. And rice 

Mary. And butter 

Francis. And powder, and muskets, and can- 
non 

Wrestling. And paper for our windows, and 
cotton yarn for our lamps — — 

Francis. (Pounding Thomas j Liar! 

John. And chests full of tools. Look at our 
new house 

Remember. And good store ^of bedding. So, 
Master Thomas, we did bringi^what we needed. 
You pray our pardons. 

Thomas. For the Lord's sake ! You brats are 
as full of ginger as Dutch cookies. Where's your 
whale gone? 

Love. It's no bigger now than a blackberry. 

Thomas. That little blackberry has tuns of oil 
in its belly, enough to make us all rich, enough to 
light all the lamps in London, ay, and all in Leyden, 
too. But what o' that? A herring in a platter is 
worth three whales in the water. 

Martin. The only herring we've caught was the 
one I picked up alive on the shore last week, which 
made a supper for the Master. 

Francis. Well, it's out o' sight. (He pulls Re- 
member hy the hair) 

Remember. Stop, Francis. 

John. Come, Mary, and be our Honey-pot. 

Mary. No, John Billington. 



o 
12 THE HOME-MAKERS 

Francis. Who's a 'f raid-cat? 

John. Come, we won't let you fall. (^John and 
Francis clasp their four wrists to make a seat, 
Mary is persuaded to ride with her arms around 
their necks. They threaten playfully to throzv her 
over the rail on the landward side tozvard the audi- 
ence, shouting, ''Here she goes!" hut she squeals, so 
they prance on with her and let her down beside 
her sister) 

John. There you are. Safe and sound. 

Love. Burr — It's cold ! 

Wrestling. There's skating on the canals in 
Ley den, I warrant. 

John. Perchance we can get some deer-bones 
and make skates. That would be merry sport. (All 
the hoys except Love withdraw to talk it over. 
Love, Mary, and Remember gaze shorezvard) 

Remember. I wish we were over there with 
father in our new Common-House. 

Love. That is only large enough for some of 
the men. You women will have to wait till another 
house is finished. 

Mary. I cannot wait with patience, Love. 

Remember. I do long to help with our new 
home. Won't it be joyful, Mary, when spring 
comes and we can make our own garden? Father 
brought some of our tulip-bulbs. 

Mary. And will we have a cherry-tree? 

Remember. (Kissing her) Oh, you sweet 
honey-pot ! I know not. 

Love. John Alden says the strawberry-vines are 
thick on Cape Cod. I will make a st;rawberry-bed 
for you, Remember. What will you do for me? 

Remember, I will get your supper when you go 
a-fishing. You will bring home an excellent good 
cod, and I will cook it in^the pot. I will dish it up 
hot and steaming \ 



THE HOME-MAKERS 13 

Mary. (Beginning to whimper) Oh, Remember, 
if we could only have some hot victuals^ I'm weary 
of cold meats, 

LovE.^ We will, when our houses are built. I'll 
fetch the wood and we'll make a fire as big as < 
(The other boys notice Mary's weeping and ap^ 
proach) 

John. What ails yoTl, Mary? 

Love. She wants some hot victuals. 

Wrestling. (Comforting her) You kno"\^ 
we cannot look for that on jjiipboard, Mary, 
not often. Perhaps the Captain will give you a 
prune. * 

Mary. (Trying to cheer up) You are kind 

Remember. See ! I have a string. I will make 
you a cat's-cradle. Here is the manger where our 
dear little Lord Jesus was laid by Mary, His mother. 
(She^ has deftly made a cafs-cradle, and rocks it 
to and fro) See, sweet Mary Honey-pot. Take it 
off, Wrestling. 

Wrestling. (Removing it to his hands and 
Making the next figure) Criss-cross-criss-cross. 
^Mary watches, again happy. Francis steals up 
behind and snatches the string) 

Francis. Just what I need to whip my top. 
(^Wrestling chases Francis to get back the string) 
Play tag on iron, Wrestling. Come, Love. 

Love. We cannot play tag on the Lord's Day. 
(^Francis, John, and Wrestling dodge round the 
dec\, shouting. Brewster and Winslow enter 
from the poop to stop the outcry) 
^ Brewster. Boys, boys! Have you forgotten 
^'(xwhat day it is? This is the Sabbath of the Lord 
thy God. Let the fear of the Lord rule your spirits 
md keep you in quiet ways. Thomas, cannot you 
nanage these young scapegraces? 

Thomas. Tis all the fault of this Francis Bil- 



14 THE HOME-MAKERS 

lington, Elder Brewster. He's a crooked stick. All 
your preaching won't make him straight, sir. 

Brewster. God can do much, — in the ten years 
between boyhood and manhood. 

Thomas. Ever since he came nigh blowing up 
the ship with gunpowder a month since, I've been 
on my guard against him. (He seizes Francis hy 
the shoulder and punctuates each question hy a 
shake) When I found him lying in a heap in the 
corner of the cabin, I shook him till he wept, to 
teach him to mend his ways. Shall I make you pipe 
again, my lad? Will you scatter powder about the 
cabin and take your lighted match close to the open 
powder-keg? And shoot off a fowling-piece to 
make the women jump? Will you, sir? 'Tis a 
mercy we aren't all meat for fishes, and the May- 
flower washing up with the tide in little chips. 

WiNSLOW. Foolishness is bound up in the heart 
of a child. 

Brewster. Praise God, there was no harm done. 
But remember the danger, all of you, and bring no 
fire again into a room where there is powder, or 
even our loaded muskets. Go now, and learn the 
Thirty-seventh Psalm. (The children go through 
the poop entrance, the sailors to the forecastle) 

WiNSLOW. (Brooding, in low spirits) The wind 
continues. 

Brewster. But the sun shines. Master Winslow. 
We will keep the Sabbath on shore as we purposed. 
I hope for good tidings from the two of our flock 
who were lost, John Goodman and Peter Brown. 
They may have found their way back to our plan- 
tation. 

WiNSLOW. Why did they leave the others whoj 
were binding up thatch ? The ten armed men w 
sent out yesterday to seek for them did not fin^ 
them. If the Indians have not surprised them, the 



THE HOME-MAKERS 15 

must have wandered all night in the frost and snow 
with no weapons but their sickle, nor any victuals, 
and in slender apparel. The wolves would terrify 
them. 

Brewster. They are strong and active. They 
could climb up and take refuge in a tree, — though 
that would prove an intolerable cold lodging. 

WinslOw. I grieve for them as lost. 

Brewster. Do not be so downcast, Edward. It 
may have pleased God so to dispose that the wild 
beasts came not, or that our people found shelter 
in the habitation of a savage, or that their two dogs 
led them safely home. Why should we question His 
goodness Who has saved us out of all our troubles? 
Comfort yourself by gazing yonder at our new 
Common-House. In spite of the foul weather it is 
finished at last, even to the thatch on the roof. 
And a great labor it has been, felling the timber, 
sawing the planks, and carrying them — well — twice 
round the moat at Scrooby, say, and no post-horses 
in the stables to haul them in, only our own stout 
arms. But there it stands secure, a promise of a 
goodly settlement. Soon we will build two rows of 
houses and a fair street, like our "hof" in Leyden. 
On the great hill over there, we will make a platform 
or fort, and plant our ordnance, which will command 
all round about. Mount to its summit, Edward, 
when you are homesick for the Burg at Leyden, and 
look thence far into the sea. 'Tis the same sea, 
Edward, and the same sun shining on it, and God 
above with the same watchful care over us. 

WiNSLOW. Nothing daunts your courage, Elder 
Brewster. You pass through fire and water un- 
moved. Such stress of weather and such villianous 
sea-sickness make my heart turn with longing to 
the Library of the University and to our quiet print- 
ing of books. 



i6 THE HOME-MAKERS 

Brewster. Not in such peace of mind did I 
print our Puritan pamphlets, Edward, .with the 
hounds of King James on my heels, and our faithful 
church hiding me from his fury for a year before 
we sailed from Delfshaven. But what books can 
compare with the pages we shall write in this new 
world ! 

WiNSLOW. You venture to learn a fresh lan- 
guage. I speak and understand only the tongues I 
knov/. When I look landward, I see that summer is 
done. You behold a new heaven and a new earth. 
I see the country stands with a weather-beaten face. 
You behold as in a dream Mother Nature smiling 
in her spring-time of delivery, crooning to an infant 
nation. I see but a hideous and desolate wilderness 
fujl of wild beasts and wild men. And who knows 
what multitudes there may be! If we look behind 
us, there is the mighty ocean we have passed, a great 
gulf separating us from the civilized parts of the 
world. Which way soever we turn our eyes, there 
is little help. 

Brewster. You forget to look upwards to the 
heavens, our dearest country. There, and in the 
hearts of our little company, lies all our strength. 
Whatsoever we have desired and worked to accom- 
plish for twenty years, will be fulfilled in that bar- 
ren spot marked "Plymoufh" on the map of Captain 
John S^ith; — freedom to worship God without in- 
terfererice from Kings or Courts or Priests, and 
to advance the Gospel of the Kingdom of Christ 
in these remote parts: freedom to educate and 
bring up pur dear children to larger opportunities 
than in crowded England, or in Holland where 
their bodies were bowed under the weight of heavy 
labor, and we were likely to lose our language and 
name of English. We are determined to found 
homes in this new land or die in the attempt. (Pause) 



* THE HOME-MAKERS Vf 

WiNSLOW. You revive my sinking heart. 

Brewster. If you sink under these fancies 
again, go and mix with the children. They possess 
the pebbles of the faith of David which will quickly 
destroy your giant Melancholy. 

^Captain Jones enters from the forecastle. He is 
a full-bodied, full-blown specimen of a ship's 
commander, as affable to the ladies as the cap- 
tain of a Cunarder, as much within his rights 
in exacting acquiescence from the men. He 
moves and speaks, sometimes ironic, with the 
leisure bestozved by long weeks at sea) 

Good morrow, Captain Jones. How soon can we 
go ashore? 

Captain Jones. When the tide serves, sir. 
After an hour I reckon. If the harbor were deeper, 
or the ship were smaller, the time would be shorter. 
The tide hastens for no man. It is, as it is. 

WiNSLOW. This mile and a half from the ship 
to the land is a long pull. Captain, and a tiresome. 
And no penny paid for the ferry. 

Captain Jones. A long pull, and a strong pull, 
and a pull all together, — steady there, — use the boat- 
hook, — we can make as close a landing to the Rock 
as if my l^ds were rowing you in the Thames to the 
Tower Stairs, supposing the King, for his Royal 
Satisfaction, should fancy to furnish you free lodg- 
ing behind stone walls. 

Brewster. (Smiling) Such grandeur would ill 
become humble printers and weavers. Thatch will 
shelter us. 

Jones. A great to-do you land-lubbers make 
about this mile and a half of water. What's a mat- 
ter of a mile and a half between husband and wife 
when there's no shop to buy ribbons? or between 



i8 THE HOME-MAKERS^ 

the working-man and his beer when there's naught 
left but an empty cask? After I weigh anchor, 
you'll be wishing you had the chance to row that 
distressing interminable devilish distance of a mile 
and a half to shore; — and then back again, if I 
don't miss the mark, that pleasing inviting stretch 
of salt water, — whether rough or smooth, — back to 
the shelter of the good ship Mayflower, and her 
gentleman-like, modest, easy-going heretic of a cap- 
tain ! 

Brewster. Ay, Master Jones, sorry we'll be to 
see your sail fade in the distance. We will miss a 
friend indeed. Just at this moment, though, my 
care is for Governor Carver and William Bradford, 
who lie sick in the Common-House. It is hard to 
wait so long to get -a message from them. If we 
had one of the Dutch carrier-pigeons that brought 
us news while Leyden was besieged by Spanish 
greed, how quickly we would know of their condi- 
tion! Man has conquered greatly when he can 
make the fowls of the air his messengers. The 
lightning only travels more rapidly, and that no man 
can guide. 

f Mistress Carver enters. She is silver-haired, 
sweet-voiced, tremulous. Her height is magni- 
fied by a cape falling in straight folds from her 
shoulders. She keeps her place in a Bible she 
carries by a finger between the leaves) 

Good morrow to you. Mistress Carver. 

Mrs. Carver. Good morrow, friends. (To Cap- 
tain JoNESJ Well, kind sir, when do you give us 
patient captives liberty to pace the sands instead of 
these hard boards? 

Jones. When the tide is high enough, Mistress 
Carver, so you poor captives will not have to wade 



THE HOME-MAKERS 19 

ashore a bow-shot through shallow water and wet 
your Sunday finery. It does this old sea-dog good 
to see his fair cargo so spic and span. 

Mrs. Carver. A faithful dog follows his mis- 
tress whether she be in fine or poor attire, Captain. 

Jones, ^s we all, rough sea-dogs and four- 
footed curs, follow at the heels of the gentle wife 
of our Governor. 

Mrs, Carver. Oh, my poor husband ! I grieve 
I cannot go to him at once. I have not slept all this 
night for fear he might be in pain or distress. 
Never has he failed in his goodness to me, and now 
he is sick, I would be by his side. Here come my 
two comforters. 

f Mary Chilton, a huxom English lass, enters first, 
with pRisciLLA Mullins, of a more spiritual 
beauty, follozmng close) 

Jones. Good morning, Mary Chilton, first 
woman on Plymouth Rock ! But Mistress Carver's 
ahead of you on deck this morning. And Priscilla, 
sweet child, is not far behind. But Priscilla is first 
in the heart of a man. 

Mary Chilton. Spare her blushes. Captain. 
She is as pink as the wild roses they tell about in 
this new land. 

Priscilla. Indeed, you may speak for yourself, 
Mary. Your cheeks, too, are nipped by this frosty 
air. (She rubs her cheeks. All laugh good-hum- 
or edly) 

Brewster. Is not my wife ready for breakfast, 
Mary? 

Mary. Yes, long ago, but Mistress Hopkins is ill 
and she's helping her with her baby Oceanus. First 
they take all the clothes out of the chest to find the 
young man's cap ; second, they find it ; third, they 



20 THE HOME-MAKERS 

put them all back again, — and the cap with them. 
Well, then it's to do all over again. Oh, here she is. 

(^Mistress Brewster enters zuith a babe in her 
arms. She is a zvholesome, motherly woman, 
comfortably middle-aged) «. 

Priscilla. Let me hold Oceanus, Mistress 
Brewster. 

Mrs. Brewster. Hush, he's just fallen asleep. 
Hush-a-by. (She sits on a stool in the middle of the 
deck and rocks him to and fro. The women gather 
round her) 

Priscilla. (Admiring him) The little lamb! 

("Mistress Susanna White, a frail little woman, 
pale and pretty, enters, carrying her month-old 
infant. Winslow picks up a stool and places 
it beside Mrs. Brewster's, with a flourish, 
then gently escorts her to it) 

Winslow. Make way for Master Peregrine 
White, the first Englishman born in New England ! 
and his honored mother! 

Susanna. Thank you kindly. I'm glad to get 
out for a breath of air and away from a scolding 
tongue. 

Jones. How now ? Is that frothy spouse of Bil- 
lington at her tricks again? (^Susanna assents) 

Winslow. She'd sooner scold than eat and 
sooner eat than pray. "" 

Jones. I pray the anchor holds till there's a lull 
in the storm. Then let her sail out into the open. 
(He threatens zvith a boat-hook) 

Winslow. I fear a wreck whenever the Bil- 
lingtons are sighted. I know not by what friends 
they shuffled into our company, (l^he men loiter by 



\ "" THE HOME-MAKERS 2i 

the seaward rail, chatting. Mrs. Brewster and 
Susanna cuddle the sleeping infaffts. ^Irs. Carver 
paces slozvly hack and forth behind them, reading 
the Psalms. Occasionally she pauses and quotes or 
reads. To these women, habituated to seeking and 
finding comfort in Holy Writ, these interruptions 
are natural and acceptable) \ 

Mrs. Brewster. (To Susanna j Does your 
back ache this morning-? 

Susanna. Yes, a^Httle. Every morning. (The 
t(wo maidens shqve the hogshead behind Susanna 
so she can lean back, then kneel at either side) 

Mrs. Brewster. Poor soul. Your strength is 
not yet returned. 

Susanna. I shall be glad when I'm on shore 
with my husband. Thanks. Such kindness as you 
have shown me and my babe this past month since 
he first opened his eyes in that cold cabin makes me 
forget all my miseries. 

Mrs. Brewster. Why, we did what we could, 
Susanna. If we had not shared your fears, how 
could we now share your joy? 

Priscilla. For two months on the ship we have 
been like one big family. Mary and I take courage 
when we see your bravery. Mistress Brewster. 

M>i^s. Brewster. Why, this is nothing. When 
we left our homes in England and sailed for Hol- 
land, — or tried to sail, I should say, — and we women 
were stranded in the creek while most of our men 
were carried out to sea by the Dutch captain, I was 
in great distress. There was I with my three poor 
little ones hanging about me crying for fear and 
quaking with cold. You would have melted in tears, 
Priscilla. All night we had waited in our open boat 
for the ship to come, and then when it came, with 
the daylight, we were stuck fast on the ground, at 
low water. The first boatful! of men was got 



22 THE HOME-MAKERS 

aboard, and then the ship-master spied a great com- 
pany coming our way, both hors.e and foot, with 
guns and other weapons, the whole country raised 
to take us prisoners, so we should not carry our- 
selves and our goods and money out of the King- 
dom without the King's license. The Dutchman, 
seeing that force coming against us, swore his coun- 
try's oath, "Sacremente !" and having the wind fair, 
weighed his anchor, hoisted sails, and away! 

pRisciLLA. How pitiful ! 

Mary. I warrant the men would have given any- 
thing to be ashore again. 

Mrs. Brewster. Well, wouldn't you? If you 
hadn't a change of linen? and scarce a penny? like 
some of them; their goods being with us. — And 
afterwards they endured a fearful storm, being 
seven days when they saw neither sun, moon, nor 
stars^ The mariners despaired of life and cried 
out, "We sink ! we sink !" But with a great degree 
of divine faith, our men said, "Yet Lord, Thou 
canst save! yet Lord, Thou canst save!" And the 
storm abated, and the ship recovered, and the Lord 
brought them to their desired haven. (Short pause) 

Priscilla. I love to hear you tell the old tales. 
Tell us what you poor women and children were 
doing. 

Mrs. Brewster. Why, even the Magistrates 
with wives and children of their own saw it was un- 
reasonable to imprison so many of us. We were 
but wives and doing our duty in following our hus- 
bands. And to send us home was as difficult, for 
the truth was, we had no homes to go to. 

Mary. Sure, you had sold your homes to make 
new ones in Holland where you could have Gospel 
preaching. 

Mrs. Brewster. Well, in the end, they were 
glad to be rid of us. 



THE HOME-MAKERS 23 

Susanna. In short, you all stole over to Hol- 
land. 

Mrs. Brewster. Ay, some at one time, and some 
at another. Some in one place, and some in an- 
other, 

Susanna. And now God has led us through the 
seas 

Mrs. Carver. "Thy way is in the sea, and Thy 
path is in the great waters, and Thy footsteps are 
not known. Thou leddest Thy people like a flock 
by the hand of Moses and Aaron." 

Mrs. Brewster. It is well for us to be here 
■where we can observe God's ordinances in safety. 
My husband rejoices that to-day for the first time 
we shall keep the Sabbath on shore under our own 
roof. "There is the House of God. There is the 
Gate of Heaven." (Indicating the Common-House) 

Mrs. Carver. "Lord, I have loved the habita- 
tion of Thy house and the place where Thy honor 
dwelleth." 

Mary. Far more peaceful is it here than in Hol- 
land. There, it's all beating of drums and preparing 
for war. 

Mrs. Brewster. Oh, it's war over the whole 
earth, the Emperor of Germany all the time at war, 
Louis XIII stamping upon his subjects, and the 
Spanish already slaves under Philip 

Susanna. I don't know where it's all going to 
end. 

Priscilla. And in England, the Sabbath is pro- 
faned by "the sweet pastime of bear-baiting." Lit- 
tle Peregrine can sleep quietly far from all that up- 
roar. 

Susanna. If the savages do not disturb us with 
their furious cries. 

Mrs. Carver. Fear not, Susanna. Hear what 
the Psalmist says : — "A people whom I have not 



24 THE HOME-MAKERS 

known shall serve me. As soon as they hear of me 
they shall obey me. The strangers shall submit 
themselves unto me. The strangers shall fade away 
and be afraid out of their close places." 

Mrs. Brewster. Blessed indeed is our new 
home, What riches are ours for the taking! 

Mrs. Carver. "A little that the righteous man 
hath is better than the riches of many wickecj/i" 

Mrs. Brewster. Amen say I. But I had in 
mind the riches of God*s bounty and not of man's 
making. Plenty of wood to warm us, plenty of 
clear running water for washing our clothes, plenty 
of sand for scouring. (Rising) And land! land! 
land ! land for everyone of us ! 

Susanna. Land for this mite of a Peregrine? 

Mrs. Brewster. Land for the oldest and land 
for the youngest ! You and I, Mistress Carver, 
have lived and toiled for many long years. We are 
stepping-stones for these young women who come 
after us, and for their children, to make their paths 

easy and pleasant (Angry voices are heard 

within the poop. The women shrink hack) 

WiNSLOw. What noise? 

CJoHN BiLLiNGTON, always of rougher deportment 
than the other Pilgrims, and now slightly ine- 
briated, miters, protecting a bottle. His wife 
Ellen follows) 

Ellen. Give me the bottle, I say— — 
BiLLiNGTON. Nay, I haA^e it safe- 



Ellen. Give it here. Yotl've drunk too much 
already. That's for medicine. What shall I do 
when my poor joints ache? 

BiLLiNGTON. What shall /do? Go without 
it? 

Ellen. Bread and beer's enough for a man. 



THE HOME-MAKERS 25 

BiLLiNGTON. (Sneering) A woman, forsooth, 
must have fish, flesh, fowl, and fruit. 

Ellen. Give it here. Your nose is always in 
the cup. 

Brewster. Softly, softly. Give me the bottle, 
Master Billington. 

BiLLiNGTON. Why? Don't meddle with me. 

Ellen., Yes, what right have you to it? It's 
mine. I need it. 

Brewster. Are you sick ? 

Ellen. No, Fm not sick. Not now. (Wheed- 
ling) But a good housewife provides before the 
sickness comes 

Brewster. The gin and brandy we must keep 
as physic 

Ellen. (Grabbing for it) So I said 

Brewster. in the common store. 

Ellen. There's no rhyi^ie or reason in that. I 
bought it myself in London. 

Brewster. Would you rather I take it and keep 
it, or your husband take it and drink it ? 

Billington. I can save it as well as you. 
What's niine 's mine. 

Brewster. You make no complaint about hav- 
ing the victuals and beer in common 

Jones. Ay, and you drink more than any 
mother's son of us ! You clam ! You mussel ! You 
oyster ! 

Billington. (Threatening him with the bottle) 
You scum of the sea ! An honest man from Lon- 
don stands no taunts from you. 

Jones. Not an inch further ! (He blows ^his 
whistle at the forecastle door) Thomas ! . Martin ! 
(They enter in haste) See to this fool. (They 
seize Billington j ^ 

Brewster. Softly, Captain Jones. Master Bil- 
lington forgets for a minute that we do hold our- 



26 THE HOME-MAKERS 

selves tied to care for each other's good. You 
know, Captain Jones, how hard it is to get even 
your small crew to agree. People have as many 
minds as sheep. Billington, you signed an agr^- |' 
ment two months ago to agree to such govern- ? 
ment as we should establish, did you notl- 

BiLLiNGTON. In truth, I did. But was there a 
bottle in the bargain? Nay, nary a bottle in the 
compact, not even when we signed, worse luck ! No 
bottle mentioned. No, Brewster. 

Brewster. But obedience is mentioned. And 
very strong! Where is that compact, Edward? 

WiNSLOW. Here, in the pocket of my Sunday 
breeches. 

Brewster. Read it, I pray you. Skip King 
James and his titles (^Winslow unfolds sev- 
eral sheets of paper bearing signatures, and reads) 
^ WiNSLOW. "We, etcetera, having undertaken for 
the glory of God, and advancement of the Christian 
Faith and honor of our King and Country, a voyage 
to plant the first colony in the northern parts of 
Virginia, do by these presents solemnly and mutu- 
ally in the presence of God, and one of another, 
covenant, and combine ourselves together into a 
civil body politic, for our better ordering, and pres- 
ervation, and furtherance of the ends aforesaid: 
and by virtue hereof, to enact, constitute, and frame 
such just and equal laws, ordinances, acts, consti- 
tutions, and offices, from time to time, as shall be 
thought most meet and convenient for the general 
good of the Colony ; unto which we promise all due 
submission and obedience." (^Billington yawns, 
indifferent) 

Brewster. Very good. "Obedience" is the tune 
we march to, obedience to just laws we make our- 
selves. Let me have the bottle of strong water. If 
you are sick and need it, you shall have it. 



THE HOME-MAKERS 27 

BiLLiNGTON. (Sullen) I'm never sick. 

Brewster. Or if this is used, and we still have 
some on hand you shall be considered first. Is not 
this fair dealing? Speak, sir. (^Billington shakes 
off the sailors and gives the bottle to Brewster j 

BiLLiNGTON. Let me go. 

Jones. You'll behave? 

BiLLiNGTON. Sure, I always behave. (He 
joins his wife forward and straightens his neck 
band) 

Mrs. Brewster. (To the zvomen) These Bil- 
lingtons will be the death of me. 

Jones. (To Brewster^ So long as you sit at 
the helm, your flock prospers. 

Brewster. Yes, but there's a black sheep in 
every fold. (He pockets the bottle) 

JoNESr Well, I'll swear by the Compact. 'Tis a 
good chart to sail by. 

Ellen. (Wrangling with her Jmsband) Where's 
your courage? Why don't you stick up for your 
rights ? 

BiLLiNGTON. Never you fear. I'll get even with 
'em yet. 

Ellen. Ay, a lot you'll do. Aren't you as good 
as the next man in this barbarous place? Have you" 
no brains ? Don't you want to get on in the world ? 
for the sake of your wife? of your children? 
Aren't John and Francis as strong, sensible fellows 
as those two Brewster lads? 

BiLLiNGTON. Stop your babble, woman. If 
you'd kept your tongue in your head, I wouldn't a 
lost my bottle. 

Ellen. Twasn't yours ! 'Twas mine ! 

BiLLiNGTON. Aw 

Ellen. Well, let that be. When are you going 
to make a stand? Are you going to let Brewster 
take the best of everything from right under your 



28 THE HOME-MAKERS 

nose? Hm? Either we succeed here or back to 
England we go. 1 

Jones. (To Billington; Will ye not hold 
your peace? (To Thomas and Martin J Come, , 
lads ! breakfast ! Bring out the salt meat and ship 
biscuit. (Out of the forecastle, the sailors wheel a 
small keg dozvn to the left, and remove the cover. 
Then they, bring out some wooden bowls and pew- ^ 
ter mugs) ^ 

Priscilla. (Calling' at the' door of the poop) j 
Children, children. Come. Breakfast. | 

(The children troop in. Five or six more may ap^ | 
pear. Some settle themselves on the deck bC" I 
side the women, others go down to the keg) | 

Children. Oh! I'm hungry. Hurry, Tom. j 

Mother, Eve learned as far as the twenty-second \ 
verse. ("Erancis is climbing up the landward rail.~i 

His mother clutches him) \ 

Ellen. How many times have I told you to l 

keep off o'there? (She turns her back and joins ] 

the group. Francis waits a second, climbs up '■ 

again, gazing toward land, and waves his hat with ! 
a shout) 

Francis. Fire! Fire! Fire! (The children i 

and sailors laugh at him. The older folk pay little ' 

heed, " 'Tis only Francis." His mother turns and \ 

starts for him. He quickly jumps dozvn) - 

Ellen. What mischief are you up to now? ' 

Francis. (Shifting toward the other children) \ 

I say 't is fire. Truly! Look! (He points land- \ 

zvard: The other children gaze, then cry in great \ 

excitement ) \ 

Children. Yes, see! Fire! Fire! See the ] 

sparks! Oh! (All rush to the ^ail. Commotion!) \ 

Brewster. (Much moved) Our house! 



THE HOME-MAKERS 29 

WiNSLOW. (Groaning) Full of men! 

Love. The roof is burning. 

Thomas. With this wind, the whole house will 
be ablaze soon — like a tinder-box. 

Mrs. Brewster. The savages ! Think you 
they've set it afire? 

Susanna. (Moaning) God help us ! 

WiNSLOW. Our men that were lost, Peter Brown 
and Goodman, the savages must have caught them. 
Thus they learned that most of our men were sleep- 
ing there last night. So they attacked. 

Susanna. God help us! My husband! 

Mrs. Carver. Alas ! my husband. Sick ! Scarce- 
ly able to move. (Beseeching^ the Captain j Let 
us go to them. Let us go to them. 

Jones. Dear Mi'stress Carver. It is impossible. 

M-RS. Carver. Surely, surely, now the water is 
high enough? 

Jones. (Shakes his head) There is no remedy. 
(Short pause) 

Mrs. Carver. Prisoners ! We are prisoners ! 
while my husband dies. f 

Mrs. Brewster. We've been prisoners before. 
Pray, pray. 

Mrs. Carver. (Raising her Bible) "My heart 
is like wax. It is melted within me. Hear the voice 
of my supplication." 

BiLLiNGTON. Oh, Heavens! 

All. What ? Speak. 

Billington. Doesn't each man keep his musket 
at the head of his bed? loaded? 

WiNSLOW. Against surprise by Indians, yes. 

Billington. If the fire reaches the powder, 
they'll be blown to pieces. 

Francis. Yes, Father. I know ! I know ! See 
the flames! 

Susanna. God! (She is distraught) My little 



30 THE HOME-MAKERS 

child! My baby! Thy father perisheth in the 
flames and thou art left an orphan in the wilder- 
ness. (She hesitates a second, staring wildly about, 
then rushes to the seaward rail with intent to jump 
overboard) 

Mrs. Brewster. Quick, quick! She's going to 
throw herself into the sea. f Winslow and Cap- 
tain Jones catch her and assist her to the pile of 
rope zvhere she sinks down. Winslow kneels be- 
side her. Priscilla takes Peregrine. Mrs. 
Brewster passes Oceanus to Mary and soothes 
SusannaJ 

Winslow. Thank the Lord we were in time. 
Thou art too precious to lose thy life, Susanna. 

Jones. (Who has come forward; to Brewster) 
Thank my stars, she didn't get overboard. Brad- 
ford's wife being drowned last month was excite- 
ment enough. |l 

Brewster. Blessed be God. Is the fire increas- Ji 
ing? Man is born unto trouble as the sparks fly up- |j 
ward. 

Winslow. I believe 'tis the thatch only which 
is burning. 'Tis dying down. The roof stands. |j 

Jones. A spark from their fire on the hearth | 
may have kindled the thatch. No doubt they used 
too much beech wood. That- scatters sparks like 
spray in the spring tides. Well, the men will have 
their work to do all over again. They'll be mad as 
hornets. 

Mrs. Carver. "The voice of the Lord divideth 
the flames of fire." 

Children. Yes — 'tis smoking now. Yes. The 
thatch is burnt up. The fire is almost out. 

Brewster. (Calling joyfully to his wife) The 
fire is quenched, Mary. Our house is saved. 

Mrs. Carver. (Putting her arms round some of 
the children) Can you see any men moving about? 



THE HOME-MAKERS 31 

Children. No. 

Mrs. Carver. Any Indians,? Look among the 
trees. 1 

Children. No. 

Brewster. Perchance if all is well, they will 
beat the drum for morning prayers as usual. 

WiNSLOw. Yes. They would sleep late this 
morning. The search party came home late yester- 
day, and weary (A distant roll of a drum is 

heard. Brewster raises his hand for silence, then 
removes his hat and stands with bowed head. The 
men follow his example. All give silent thanks) 

Remember. (Breaking the silence) Then the 
Indians will not get them. 

Francis. Then the muskets did not explode. 
(All laugh. The strain is over. The men replace 
their hats. The sailors fill the howls with biscuit, 
helped by the children who take a rubble on the sly. 
Mrs. Brewster is solicitous about Susanna^ 

Mrs. Brewster. Do you still feel faint, Sus- 
anna? 

Susanna. Yes — a little. 

Mrs. Brewster. William, quick, come here. 
(All but the sailors and children gather round) She 
is faint, poor soul She had a wretched fright. 
That bottle — (^Brewster has forgotten it) — that 
bottle of Billington's. 

Brewster. Why, yes, truly, here it is. (He 
draws it from his pocket) 

Mrs. Brewster. Give her some. (^Winslow 
picks up one of the mugs and pours in some gin) 

Billington. There it goes. 

Brewster. Have you any objections, Master 
Billington? 

Billington. (Still surly) No. 

Ellen. I feel faint, too. (She flops dozvn. All 
smile, but ignore her hint) Can't ye help a body? 



32 THE HOME-MAKERS 

Jones. I have no objection to Mistress White 
having some this time, but I have two objections to 
the strong water. (All stare at him in amazement) 

Mary. Why, Captain Jones ! 

Jones. Firstly, 'tis too dear. Secondly, there 
isn't enough to go around. (Laughter. The chil- 
dren pass the bowls of biscuit and boxes of beef, 
Ellen calls them back for a double helping. The 
sailors jest as they cover the keg) 

Martin. The Lord saved the roof. 

Thomas. The Lord let the thatch burn. 

Martin. What had He, think you, against the 
thatch ? 

Thomas. The roof was wet as our hull before 
the thatch was put on, and the twigs dry as straw. 
Well, the m^ will be back to the ship and to our 
beer-casks to-night, hang 'em. I'll be sworn they 
set it afire on purpose. 

Martin. What these folk don't know about 
muskets ! Scarce one has ever handled a piece. If 
the men could get out o' the burning building, could 
they not take out the muskets? 

Thomas. Ay, they'd have been dead from the 
heat by the time the muskets shot ofif. But what 
man in his wits willjie like a Yule-log while the 
sparks fly round him ! 

Jones. (Who has joined them) Ay. But they 
show an infinite patience in a deal of misery. Put 
away the biscuit. (The sailors roll the keg into the 
forecastle. The Captain follozvs them. Mean- 
time ) 

Mrs. Carver. Alas ! Our first home in the new 
land is destroyed. 

Mrs. Brewster. Nay, say not destroyed. That 
the roof is burnt is nothing. 

Mary. Soon that will be repaired. 

Priscilla. The first was built well. The second 



THE HOME-MAKERS 33 

will be better. ("Elder Brewster, affectionately 
drawing one of his sons to his embrace, raises his 
hand. The other Pilgrims kneel, the men hatless) 
Brewster. My son Let us ask a bless- 
ing Our Father in Heaven, we thank thee for 

this food for our bodies, and beseech Thee to sus- 
tain and strengthen our souls. Give us faith to 
build homes for ourselves and for our children's 
children, — for Thy truth endureth to all genera- 
tions. Amen. 

The curtain falls slowly during the last phrase 



ACT II 

At Home with the Pilgrims in Plymouth. The 
Morning of April 5, 1621. 

Scene. The interior of the Common-House, the 
home of Governor Carver and Elder Brews- 
ter. The walls are of logs stuffed with clay, 
the floor of boards uncovered. The door, a 
little to the right of the center of the rear walls, 
hangs on heavy iron hinges. A small window 
at the left of this door, and another in the 
center of the left wall, are made of oiled paper. 
Beneath the first window, pegs are driven in 
the wall, on which rests a hoard for a writing- 
table. One of the four stools in the room 
stands before it. A large, solid chest stands at 
the right of the door. The wall above it is fur- 
nished with wooden pegs, from which hang 
garments of various sorts and sizes. A large 
fireplace breaks the right wall, the hearth of 
trodden earth. On the fire is a pot, and skillets 
and trivets are at hand; also firewood and a 
broom made of brush. A small plain mirror 
hangs from the wall. Between the chest and 
fire stands a flax-wheel. At the right of the 
fireplace, a narrow shelf holds brass and pew- 
ter candle-sticks. Beneath stands a lectern 
hearing a large open Bible. A stool is at the 
extreme right. In the left furthest corner 
IS a bed of planks made up invitingly with 
34 



THE HOME-MAKERS 35 

quilts, pillows, and fine linen. Against the 
left wail are two trestles and boards resting 
on the floor, which, put together, make a table. 
At the left of the window, a simple dresser of 
narrow shelves and slats holds pewter plates, 
mugs, wooden-ware, boxes, and the Governor's 
trumpet. Well forward stands a bench con- 
structed by laying a board across two small 
trestles. 

Before the curtail rises, a babble of childish 
voices is heard, studying aloud. At rise, Mrs. 
Carver sits on the stool at right, knitting ; the 
four boys stand facing her ; the two girls sit on 
the bench at left, swinging their legs, reading 
the syllables from their hornbooks * zvhich 
hang by strings from their necks. The boys 
are reciting from memory. Mrs. Brewster 
stands folding quilts and laying them neatly on 
the bed. 



Mrs. Carver. Quiet, lads! Now, Remember, 
say the vowels. 
j Remember. A, E, I, O, U. 

Mrs. Carver. Go on. 

Remember. A b ab, e b eb, i b ib, o b ob, u b 
lub ; a c ac, e c ec, i c ic, o c oc, u c uc ; a d ad, e d ed, 
|i d id, o d od, u d ud ; a f af, e f ef, i f if, o f of, 

u f uf (The girls are standing to recite. 

Francis finds a small piece of bark and flicks it 
.over af Remember. Mrs. Carver reaches for the 
\birch rod beneath her stool and threatens him) 

* These early primers may be reproduced by a five-inch 
l)bIong wooden paddle with a two-inch handle pierced by 
u hole. On a four-incTi oblong of paper covered with isin- 
idass to represent "horn," — such as was used in the lant- 
jiorns, — and fastened down by quarter-inch imitation 

eather passepartout, is printed the alphabet, syllables, and 

he Lord's Prayer. 



36 THE HOME-MAKERS 

Mrs. Carver. Well done. Now, Mary, your 
babebibobu. 

Mary. (Singsong) B a ba, b e be, b i bi, b o bo, 
b u bu, ba be bi bo bu. • 

I\Irs. Carver. Good. Are you sure you know 
your ABC? 

Mary. Oh, yes, ma'm, 

Mrs. Carver. Good. 

"He that ne'er learns, his ABC 
Forever will a bloekhead be." 

Now, lads, we'll try some spelling. Let us see if 
you have learned the five-syllable words I gave you 
yesterday. 

Remember. May I try? I know the syllables. 

Mrs. Carver. Well, stand in line; toes on the 
crack. ^Mary stretches out on the bench, taking 
care not to fall off. Remember joins the boys, the 
order being Love, Francis, Remember, Wrest- 
ling, JOHNJ 

Francis. Remember cannot spell these 'long 
words, Mistress. Give her something easy. 

Remember. I can indeed. 

Mrs. Carver. Peace! Love, spell Purification. 
(The children spell in turn, correctly, but zvith some 
hesitation, dividing the words into syllables) Fran- 
cis, — Abomination. Correct. — Remember, spell this 
that I keep for giving bad boys a trouncing. Birch. 
Correct. — Wrestling, spell, um — Mortification. 
Good. John, Humiliation. — Now, Love, pay atten- 
tion, Edification. Toe the mark. (They straighten 
their line) 

Love. Edification, e d ed. d e edde 

Mrs. Carver. Wrong. Go to the foot. Fran- 
cis. 

Francis. What, ma'm? 

Mrs. Carver. Spell the word. 

Francis. What word? 



THE HOME-MAKERS 37 

Mrs. Carver. Don't you know the word? An- 
swer your teacher. 

FiL\NCis. Forsooth I have forgot. 

Remember. "Edification !" 

Francis. Edification. E d ed, d i edi, f e fe ^ 

Remember. /. know, / know. 

Mrs. Carver. Fraftcis, go to the foot. Now, 
Remember, see if you can stay at the head. 

Remember. Edification, e d ed, i edi, f i edifi, 
c a ca, edifica, t io n, edification. 

I\Irs. Carver. Bless your heart. That's all, Re- 
member. (^Rem^^ber goes back to the bench) 

Remember. I'^tayed at the head, Mary. 

IMrs. Carver. Now, boys, where is your birch- 
bark for writing out your sums ? 

Boys. (Excusing themselves) Yesterday it 
drizzled all day. April showers — wet the bark. W^e 
didn't fetch any wood from the forest. 

IMrs. Carver. Till to-morrow then. \\'here is 
my sum-book? 

^Irs. Brewster. (Taking it from- the desk) 
Here it is. (The boys play at the fire. ^Irs. Brews- 
ter detains Mrs-; Carver as she looks at the title- 
page) How long ago was this printed? Oh, only 
about twenty-five years. "London, 1596." 

^Irs. Car\^r. I sigh over this arithmetic. I 
never was strong in it. 

IMrs. Brewster. You are better on accounts than 
any of us other women. And the m.en can't spare 
time for sums, what with sawing clapboards to send 
back to pay our debts in England, and building our 
houses, and ploughing our fields 

Mrs. Carver. Alas ! Well, boys. Toe the mark. 
We'll do some sums in our heads. 10 and 5 and 2 
and 4 and 8 are how many? (Pretending to count 
stitches zvith her knitting needle, she is really adding 
the numbers as she gives them out) 



38 THE HOME-MAKERS 

Francis. 29. 

Mrs. Carver. That's right. Isn't it, Wrestling? 
Wrestling. Yes, ma'm. Give us some larger 
numbers. 

Mrs. Carver. Well — 100 and 300 and 100 and 
569. How many is that, Wrestling? 
Wrestling. 1069, ma'm. 

Mrs. Carver. Did all you boys get the same an- 
swer? 

Boys. Yes, ma'm. 

Mrs. Carver. Then it's correct. Now Wrest- 
ling, can you say the multiplication table of 12? 
Wrestling. (Teasingly) 

"Multiplication is my vexation, 
And division quite as bad, 
The Golden Rule is my stumbling stool, 
And practice makes me mad." 
(Laughter) 
Mrs. Carver. Wrestling! What will yourj 
mother say? 

Mrs. Brewster. (Pretending not to he amused^ 
She'll say, you'd better warm the birch. 

Wrestling. (Going to her and putting his am 
round her) Oh, Mother dear, I know the table, but 
I said that to make you laugh. You are so sad thes< 
days. 

Mrs. Brewster. (Kissing his brow) My big 
son ! The winter has been a hard one. The sick- 
ness has saddened' us all. And I miss thy sisters so 
far away. 

Wrestling. Your elbow is so sharp now, 
Mother ! 

Mrs. Brewster. (Trying to make merry) All 
the better to prick you with when your father 
preaches. 

Mrs. Carver. Well, here's the rhyme you are 
learning about the days of the month. All say it 



THE HOME-MAKERS 39 

together. Come, Mary. (They say it in a loud sing- 
song. Mrs. Carver, with her arm round Mary, 
marks time with her rod) 
All. "Thirty days hath September, 
April, June, and November. 
February eight and twenty alone. 
All the rest thirty and one." 

Mrs. Carver. Now we will close our lessons 
with a prayer. God make us worthy of our mani- 
fold blessings. Amen. Now you have leave to play 
awhile. 

Remember. Boys, play London Bridge with 
Mary and me. 

Boys. No, we want to go out to play tag. 

Remember. Oh, pray do. A little while. ("Boys 
consent, ^he whispers to Mary. They join hands 
and lift their arms as the file of boys march under, 
all singing the old tune, — 'London Bridge is falling 
down, my fair lady." They catch Love first, lead 
him, one side and ask him) 

Girls. Which had you rather, a pig or a mon- 
key? 

Love. Pig! pig, by all odds. You can't eat a 
monkey. 

Remember. Mary's the Pig. Go behind Mary. 
(They repeat the march till the game ends with a 
tug-of-zvar. Brewster, without a coat and carry- 
ing a hatchet, enters while the frolic is going on and 
waits indulgently for its close) 

Brewster. Judging by the noise, school is over 
and 'tis time for my class in Latin. So, boys, to the 
woodpile with you, where we will hew wood and 
Latin verbs together. And if we saw wood in Latin, 
we will fetch water in Dutch. For we must not 
forget our foster-language. Some day we may be 
trading with Dutch neighbors along the Hudson. 

Boys. Yes, Father. Yes, sir. 



40 THE HOME-MAKERS 

. i 

Mrs. Carver. See you are as diligent to learn as f 
the young gentlemen, both Danes and Germans, he 
taught in Holland. Show him that English boys 
can learn as well as those sons of foreign men. 

Boys. We will. Yes, ma*m. (They scamper 
out) 

Brewster. One day with the children is much 
the same as any other day. They play London 
Bridge in Cheapside, or London Bridge in Leyden, 
or London Bridge here on the edge of the world, it's 
all one to their merry hearts. (He goes out) 

Mrs. Brewster. And one day is much like an- 
other with housewives. Now the quilts are aired 
and folded, I have time to scour pewter before din- 
ner. (She goes to the pot and gives it a stir, then 
sits to polish pezvter. Remember and Mary sit on 
the bench doing some simple seunng) 

Mrs. Carver. (Examining their work) Those 
are excellent small stitches, Remember. Mary, thy 
stitches go up hill and down dale. Make them 
straighter, child. Our little maids must be fine 
needle- women. Take care not to prick thy fingers. 

Mrs. Brewster. For the sake of the linen! 
(Laughter) 

Mrs. Carver. Ay, thrift is needful (Merry 

voices are heard outside and a rat-a-tap on the 
door) 

Mary Chilton. May we open? 

Mrs. Brewster. Come in. I know your knock, 
Mary Chilton. ("Mary and Priscilla, feet bare, 
skirts pinned up, fling the door open. Each carries 
a basket and hoe, and glows with the self-reliance 
of a modern farmerette ) 

Mary. No, dear Mother Brewster. Priscilla 
and I stop but for a moment to leave you a basket 
of mussels for your supper. The tide is low so we 
have been on the beach digging, these two hours. 



THE HOME-MAKERS 41 

Mrs. Carver. Come in, come in. 

Priscilla= Nay, our feet are wet. We will soil 

your floor, . ,,ti ., n 

Mrs Brewster. What matters! What s a floor 
save a path for friendly feet! Come in, my daugh- 
ters. T • 

Priscilla. Nay, Mother Brewster, came 1 in 
'twould be but to kiss you. And that would breed 
jealousy, for here's Captain Jones on our track. 
(She puts her basket inside the door and stands 
aside as Jones enters) 

Jones. Good morrow to you all. I m still here, 

you see. j v -d *. 

Mrs. Carver. (Drawing a stool forward) Kest 

awhile, Captain. 

Jones. Are the men at home? 

Mrs. Carver. Nay, the Governor is m the for- 

est. 

Mary Chilton. The Elder is at the woodpile. 

I'll to him. . , ^ ^ 

Remember. Pray, can't we go with them.'' 
Mrs. Carver. Yea, put up your sewing, and run 
and stretch your legs. , 

Mary Allerton. Good. Pnscilla, wait, i en- 
treat you. ^ ^ ^ ^ 

Remember. Wait for us. Mother Brewster, 
may we go to the edge of the woods and get some 
strawberry -leaves for the pot? 

Mrs. Brewster. Yes. Run along. (The four 

go out) 

Jones. I shall miss visiting this home of yours, 
so'Uttle like my cell of a cabin. My ship is a bee- 
hive, cell upon cell, where the visitor sees naught but 
the iittle space wherein he stands. This house of 
yours, being all open, and where I see all your be- 
longings at one view, is a bird's nest. 'Tis as if 
you presented me with the keys of the city, say the 



42 THE HOME-MAKERS 

keys of Flushing" which were committed to the 
charge o£ Elder Brewster in his early journeys by 
the Ambassador of the Queen. Once inside your 
door, and all ceremony's over. Many a fine mansion 
I've seen as I've tumbled about the world, but this 
is a house that is a home, f Brewster comes in 
with an armful of logs. He looks back) 

Brewster. Hail, Bradford. Captain Jones is 
here. Come and join us. (He drops his logs on 
the woodpile. Bradford appears with a bucket of 
water which he sets beside the door) 

Jones. Good morrow to you. Elder, and to you. 
Master Bradford. When I came in, I had but a 
word for you, but when I start to talk, I talk by the 
yard. Your pardon, Mistress, if I am tiresome. 

Mrs. Carver. You always hit the nail on the 
Head. 

Jones. My word then is this. The wind has be- 
gun to shift. 

Bradford. And you will leave us. 

Jones. For three days all has been in readiness 
to hoist sail. But for three days, the wind has not 
favored us. Even now I may not read the signs 
aright. But g-ranted a fair wind, we shall weigh 
anchor. 

Mrs. Carver. When you take leave of us, Lon- 
don Bridge will seem a long way oflf. 

Jones. I'll give you due notice ere I leave. But 
have your letters ready. (He goes. Brewster takes 
some letters from the desk and joins his wife, who 
is seated on the bench ) 

Bradford. Often have we sat by this fire of a 
cold winter evening and talked of our first letters to 
our friends. Then it seemed a long time ahead be- 
fore we could send news. Now comes the long, 
long time of awaiting their answers. Would it were 
possible to know what agitation for our Cause has 



THE HOME-MAKERS 43 

taken place in England since our removal, and 
which of our friends have been harried by the King 
or perchance even now at blows with him. 

Mrs. Brewster. Alas! (Short pause) Our 
dear daughters, Fear and Patience, must have had 
their hearts and thoughts already on this side, with 
six months or more of waiting for a word from us. 

Mrs. Carver. Fear and Patience they were well 
named, Mary. 

Mrs. Brewster. Ay, their waiting has been the 
harder part, with no news of our safe arrival. I 
praise God I taught them to pray, to pray con- 
stantly, that their faith may not be shaken. 

Bradford. You have not told them of the sick- 
ness by which half of our company have died? 
Forty-seven gone this winter. 

Brewsier. No. I cannot bear to burden them 
with our discouragements. I will read what I have 
said to my son Jonathan. "When so many have 
died, and so many yet languish, myself and dear 
wife and sons are yet living and in health, and do 
hope that our days of affliction may soon have an 
end. We h?.ve met with many sad and discom- 
fortable things, a scarcity of beer " 

Bradford. Why do you object to that? You 
drink nothing but water. 

Brewster. Billington and his followers will 
write that the water is not wholesome. 

Bradford. If they mean not so wholesome as 
the good beer and wine in London which they so 
dearly love, we will not dispute with them. But 
add, — for water, it is as good as any in the world, 
and w^holesome enough to us that can be content 
therewith. 

Brewster. "A scarcity of beer and bread " 

Bradford. There again. Two-thirds of all Bil- 
lington and his cronies eat is bread, so there is little 



m 



44 THE HOME-MAKERS 

left. They wail they are starving when they are 
forced to eat turkeys and venison, clams and oys- 
ters. 

Brewster. (Reading again) "Howsoever our 
fare be but coarse in respect of what we formerly 
had, yet the Lord makes it so sweet to us that I 
may truly say I desire no better." 

Mrs. Carver. Nobody amongst us was of higher 
estate than you. Elder Brewster. And if you can 
get along without the capon and cider, and endive * 
and cheese that made your dinner at Scrooby 
Manor, why so can we. 

Bradford. If we have Indian corn enough, we 
may live plentifully. Corn will save us! 

Brewster. (To his wife) Have you your let- 
ter finished for Fear and Patience ? 

Mrs. Brewster. Ay, William. (She draws it 
from her kerchief where it was hidden over her 
heart) 

Brewster. What did you add last night? (To 
Bradford J She is always adding a few words. 
("Mrs. Brewster unfolds the letter and reads the 
end, trying pitifully to control her emotion) 

Mrs. Brewster. "I long for the time when I 
may see thy sweet faces again, my dear daughters. 
I look forward to your coming over to join us, and 
though the passage be many, many weeks, I trust 
that God who hath so graciously preserved us hith- 
erto will bring us to see each other with abundance 
of joy. I praise God I want nothing but thee." 
(She begins to weep) "So I kiss my dear daugh- 
ters " (She breaks down utterly and hides her 

face on her husband's shoulder. He embraces her 
tenderly) 

Brewster. Mary, sweetheart, my best beloved, f' 
('Bradford is affected and bows his head in his 
hands. Mrs. Carver approaches him) 



THE HOME-MAKERS 45 

Mrs. Carver. What ails thee, good Master 
Bradford? 

Bradford. This painful separation ! Those dear 
to me ! My young wife lies beneath the waves, my 
sweet Dorothy May — and our little son John far 
away in Leyden 

Mrs. Carver. Have you writ him to come td 
you? 

Bradford. No. What would he do here without 
his mother? We had planned to make a home for 

him. But now Better it might be for us both 

if I returned in the Mayflower and forgot my plans 
for our future in this Plantation. 

Brewster. Bradford, did I hear aright? You 
talk of leaving us ? 

Bradford. I have looked at the matter from all 
sides. All sides alike are dark. 

Brewster. My friend, my friend ! The Lord 
knows how dear thou art to me. Why, William, 
thou art my right hand. What could I do without 
thee? 

Bradford. There are other men who can hew 
wood and fish and trade better than I. 

Brewster. Thy wisdom is worth more than 
many cargoes. For years, since thou camest to our 
church at Scrooby, a pale, weak lad, I have taught 
and cherished thee, William. Do not forsake me 
now I am old. 

Bradford. So few of our company are left in 
this vale of tears ! Must we pass through hell to 
heaven ? 

Brewster. Is it not enough that we here enjoy 
Jesus Christ ? What would we have more ? I thank 
God I like so well to be here as I do not repent my 
coming. If I had foreseen all these afflictions, I 
would not have altered my course. Shall not these 
young men be as strong as their Elder? 



46 THE HOME-MAKERS 

Bradford. You rip up my heart. 

Brewster. We need leaders in this wilderness. 
Will you faint now, or make a place for your son to 
stand? (A knock at the door. Mrs. Carver opens 
if. BiLLiNGTON enters with a hoe) 

Mrs. Carver. Good day, Master Billington. 

Brewster. How now? Do you feel the call of 
the spring-time to go a-gardening? Good. 

Billington. Not so, Elder. I'm on my way to 
get bait to go a-fishing. I saw your beds airing in 
the sunshine, Mistress Carver. I warrant ye are 
glad to get 'em out o' the house. 'Tis as if the 
graves on the hill were always under your eyes. 
(He marches gloomily around the room) Here laid 
Mistress Mary Allerton and here she said a long 
good-bye to little Mary and Remember. Here Mis- 
tress Elizabeth Winslow breathed her last, and here 
by the window little Peregrine looked for the last 
time on his father. Here Priscilla kissed her father 
and mother and brother farewell for their long 
journey and Mary Chilton's mother left her, too, 
alone in the world. Pleasant memories you nurse 
by your fireside. Mistress Brewster ! 

Mrs. Brewster. Mistress Carver and I have 
nursed our dear friends with such strength as was 
granted us. Master Billington, and with no help 
from you. Are not two faithful women as strong 
as one fault-finding man? Did you make the fire 
for the sick? or cook their food? or wash their 
clothes ? or make their beds ? 

Billington. Nay, that I never did in my own 
home, not even in London, — ^- 

Mrs. Brewster. Pity about you. 

Billington. And I came to this land for greater 
liberty. 

Bradford. Seneca says : "A great part of liberty 
is a well-governed belly and to be patient in all 



THE HOME-MAKERS 47 

wants." So I wish you a string of fish, but if you 
have no luck, have patience. (^Bradford passes out 
with BiLLiNGTON as WiNSLOw and Susanna 
White enter gaily. She carries her baby wrapped 
in a blanket. The call of the spring-time, ''the only 
merry ring-time" has her in thrall) 

Susanna. A merry April day, Mistress Car- 
ver. 

Mrs. Carver. You are like a primrose yourself, 
Susanna. 

WiNSLOW. There's a promise in the air this 
morning. 

Mrs. Brewster. (Peeking at Peregrine^ And 
how's little Master Cowslip? 

WiNSLOW. Lusty as a lambkin. 

Mrs. Carver. Sit thee down, friends. fSus- 
ANNA, with her back to the audience so the baby is 
hidden, sits on the bench. Winslow sits sidewise 
and regards her tenderly. Mrs. Carver knits, 
Mrs. Brewster stirs the pot. Brewster goes to 
the desk to add to his letter) 

WiNSLOW. Mistress Carver, you take the air too 
little. You put me in mind of a tortoise who seldom 
peeps out of her shell. 

Mrs. Carver. That is the proper emblem of a 
woman who should be a keeper at home. 

WiNSLOW. (Making eyes at SusannaJ Would 
I had such a keeper. 

Mrs. Brewster. Do you call a creature who 
lives in a shell a home-maker? 

Susanna. Home is not home without a man at 
the head of the board. My Httle sprig of a Pere- 
grine, many a long year ere thou canst go a-fowling 
to fill the platter. 

WiNSLOW. (More and more enamoured, ad- 
dressing the infant with baby-talk) Does he 
want to use Master Winslow's big musket and shoot 



48 THE HOME-MAKERS 

a robin-redbreast? Did he hear the pretty robin 
sing this morning? 

Brewster. (Humorously) The time of the coo- 
ing of doves is come. 

WiNSLOW. (Taking down the trumpet and dang- 
ling it before the babe) When he's a big boy, he 
will sound the Governor's trumpet. But Massa- 
soit, the great Indian king, when he tried it, could 
make but a squeak. Much he marvelled at it, and 
so did his followers Samoset and Squanto. 

Susanna. You would spoil the babe if he were 
yours. (She takes Peregrine to the bed and stays 
beside him till Squanto's entrance) 

Mrs. Carver. Methinks the child would rather 
play with one of the fat eels that Squanto caught 
for our dinner, but Nan has put them in the pot. 

Winslow. You keep your house extraordinarily 
clean. Nan must be a good maid-servant. 

Mrs. Carver. Yea, she's used to all kinds of 
work but she is grown insolent in this free country. 

Susanna. I saw her scrubbing the sheets as we 
entered. 

Mrs. Brewster. Yes, has she finished, I won- 
der. (She goes to the door and looks out, calling) 
Nan, your washing's not done. Why are you loiter- 
ing? 

Nan. (Outside) By the same token that your 
head's out o' doors. 

Mrs. Brewster. You've got such a head that it's 
insufferable. 

Nan. You may stay long ere you meet with a 
better. 

Mrs. Brewster. Set the empty tub out o' the 
sun. It will crack. 

Nan. Do it yourself. 

Mrs. Brewster. Now, husband, you can see for 
yourself 



THE HOME-MAKERS 49 

Susanna. I would send her away, if this were 
Holland. 

Mrs. Brewster. I dare say she'll leave, — on the 
Mayflower. 

Mrs. Carver. She's my servant. Let me an- 
swer her. Surely she will not use such language 
to me. (Calling) Nan. 

Nan. Yes, yes. 

Mrs. Carver. Nan, remember the verse of the 
Psalmist I taught thee: — "Make thy face to shine 
upon thy servant, and let not any iniquity have do- 
minion over me.'* 

^ Nan. Hm ! You overflow so with the Bible 
that you spill it on every occasion. You will not 
cudgel your maid without Scripture! 

Mrs. Carver. (Hastily retiring from the door) 
I fear she is troubled with the Divil. 

WiNSLOW. It is a question if she is more 
troubled with the Divil or the Divil with her. 

Mrs. Brewster. I would hire some other body, 
but there is no one, unless Squanto 

Brewster. Squanto is still here, though Massa- 
soit and all the other savages are gone away. Never 
should we have learned to catch eels with our hands 
but for him. I hope he remains, for we need to be 
taught what the inhabitants have learned from 
the grave Mistress, Experience. We are but 
strangers. 

WiNSLOW. He is an instrument appointed from 
on high to serve us. The ways of the Almighty are 
past finding out. He is the only surviving native of 
his tribe that lived here, and had he not been enticed 
on board that English vessel seven years ago and 
carried to Spain, he might have perished by the 
plague with all his people. * 

Mrs. Brewster. Now he is returned, we must 
make him feel at home again. 



50 THE HOME-MAKERS 

WiNSLOW. When I went with him the other day 
to parley with Massasoit, I could not have made 
myself understood save for him. He is of great 
value as an interpreter. Besides, we are scarcely a 
handful in comparison to the forces the savages 
might gather together against us. They might eas- 
ily swallow us up. 

Mrs. Carver. Would it not be well to give him 
some token of our good will? 

Brewster. Ay, truly. Since he has been with 
us this past fortnight, he has served us well. (A 
knock. Mrs. Carver opens the door. Squanto 
enters, a tall, straight, handsome Indian. His face 
is clean-shaven, his complexion like a Gypsy, and his 
hair hangs to his shoulders, but over his forehead 
it is gathered like a fan, broadwise, and fastened 
with a feather. He wears long leather leggins and 
tight, short trousers, and a deerskin. He carries an 
Indian basket, a foot or more across, filled with dead 
leaves. He raises his right hand, impressively, the 
greeting of a friend, and stands observant. Brews- 
ter advances to him and offers to take the basket) 
Come in. Welcome, Squanto. 

Squanto. (Presenting his gift to Mrs. Brews- 
terJ For squaw. 

Mrs. Brewster. (Regarding the leaves di^bi- 
ously and not taking the basket) The basket is 
beautifully wrought. I thank you, Squanto. Is it, 
— er — eels ? (^Squanto lifts a handful of leaves and 
scatters them. Susanna,, who is leaning forward, 
sniffs appreciatively) 

Susanna. What a sweet scent! (^Squanto 
grunts and scatters more leaves) 

Mrs. Brewster. (Sniffs) Oh, 'tis a fragrance 
to comfort the heart, f Squanto pushes the leaves 
apart and holds up a hunch of arbutus) What do 
you call it? 



THE HOME-MAKERS 51 

Squanto. Our children call it neen-wonckanet- 
namen. 

Mrs. Brewster. Our children will never call it 
that. 

Mrs. Carver. (Admiring it) The scent stirs 
the heart like the touch of baby fingers. It is sweet 
as the May in the hedgerows of England. Our 
children will love it. They can call it the May- 
flower ! 

Mrs. Brewster. (Giving each woman a blossom 
and accepting the basket) Our first flowers in the 
new land! You are kind, Squanto, to bring them. 
We did not look for flowers so soon. 

Squanto. Thick in the woods. I know where 
to find, f Brewster has taken a showy earring from' 
the box on the dresser, and approaches SquantoJ 

Brewster. Squanto, here is a jewel to hang in 
your ear. Its mate we gave to Massasoit's brother. 
(He fastens it in Squanto's ear. Squanto re- 
gards himself in the mirror, greatly pleased) 

Squanto. I like. Ahhe, yes. Warm day, woods 
warm, Squanto dry. I want drink. 

Mrs. Brewster. (To Winslowj Give him to 
drink, I pray you. 

Mrs. Carver. (Taking from the dresser a maple 
howl skillfully fashioned) Use the Governor's 
bowl he had from Samoset. ("Winslow fetches the 
bucket of water and pours some into the bowl held 
by Mrs. Carver, which she then offers to Squanto. 
He motions it away, makes a bozvl of his hands, one 
curved zmthin the other, and signifies that Winslow- 
is to pour water into them) 

Squanto. Water. (He raises his hands and 
drinks from his wrists. Mrs. Carver offers the 
bowl to Brewster, who shakes his head, gets water 
from Winslow, and follows Squanto's way of 
drinking) 



52 THE HOME-MAKERS 

Brewster. No newfangled ideas such as 
bowls. We must learn to love the simple Hfe, like 
Diogenes. 

Mrs. Carver. (Drinking from the howl) You 
always learn your lessons first. (^Winslow puts the 
bucket in the corner, Susanna hums to the babe. 
Squanto admires his jewel in the mirror. Brews- 
ter shakes his hands to dry them. Mrs. Brewster 
stirs the pot) 

Mrs. Brewster. The hodge-podge is nearly 
ready. You men might set the table, an 't please 
you. (^Brewster and Winslow bring forth the 
trestles and lay the boards across them, one end 
near the desk) 

Brewster. (Examining a trestle) This is out 
of kilter. Where's the hammer? (He drives in a 
nail or two. Mrs. Carver brings a linen cloth from 
the chest, and, with Susanna's help, lays it, and 
puts on the pewter and wooden-ware. Susanna 
picks up the baby) 

Mrs. Carver. Stay, neighbors, and take pot-iuck 
with us. 

Susanna. Nay, thank you kindly. I have por- 
ridge at home. 

Brewster. I'll call in the children, wife. 

Winslow. May I walk with you, Susanna? 
^Brewster, Winslow, and Susanna go out) 

Mrs. Brewster. So that is how the land lies ! 

Squanto. Squanto get out too. 

Mrs. Carver. Nay, Squanto. Tarry awhile. 
The Governor's house is home to you. 

Mrs. Brewster. Poor soul, he has no other. 
('Squanto goes to the bench, picks up and examines 
the trumpet) 

Mrs. Carver. (Looking out of window) Mary, 
that tub still sets in the sun. 

Mrs. Brewster. Well, if servants weren't as 



THE HOME-MAKERS 53 

rare as lemons, I would (She goes out, Mrs. 

Carver follows her, leaving the door open) 

Mrs. Carver. And some of the linen must be 
dry. (^Squanto investigates the trumpet. Now he 
is alone, this is the chance to try it without making 
a fool of himself. What a glittering toy! If he 
blows at the large end, no sound repays him. But 
a manly effort at the mouth-piece, O rapture! a 
squeak responds. A tremendous breath, an un- 
earthly note, consternation! Billington appears, 
and, seeing the Indian alone, enters, and prudently 
shuts the door) 

Billington. Ho there! So 'tis Squanto, my 
fine trumpeter! 

Squanto. You think me a child to play with 
toy. (Putting trumpet dozvn) I hear the King's 
beefeaters blow it in London. I never try before. 

Billington. Ay, London. What can one not 
hear there ? All sorts of merry goings-on. Here all 
the days are working-days. Perchance I'll get a 
holiday — the day I die. I'm sick of it. 

Squanto. You want to go back? 

Billington. Ay, Squanto, my fine buck, that 
I do. I dare swear that you, too, would gladly 
return to the house of John Slany, Merchant, and 
spend your days in Cornhill. Ay, and your nights, 
too. There honest men like us could walk to the 
alehouse in safety with the lanterns brightening 
each doorway. Here we blink at the fire awhile and 
then to bed. 

Squanto. (Shaking his head) People too many 
in London. Like blades of grass. (Throwing out 
his arms) Here is room. 

Billington. Ah, Squanto, you rogue, you are 
Great Man here. We English lean on you. We be- 
lieve all you say. Is it not so? 

Squanto. Ahhe, yes. 



54 THE HOME-MAKERS 

BiLLiNGTON. You talk to your people for us. Is 
it not so? / 

Squanto. Ahhe. 

BiLLiNGTON. You are our tongue. 

Squanto. Ahhe. 

BiLLiNGTON. You are our eyes. You see the 
deer for us in the forest. Is it not so? 

Squanto. Ahhe. 

BiLLiNGTON. And. the fish in the streams. With- 
out you we would be helpless. Save for one thing. 
Do you know what we keep locked in the store- 
house yonder? 

Squanto. No, no sir. 

BiLLiNGTON. The plague. (^Squanto shrinks 
away) I hold the key. (He mysteriously draws a 
key from his pocket) With this I can unlock the 
plague to kill my enemies. 

Squanto. Many white mans died this winter. 

BiLLiNGTON. Ay, enemies of mine. But was I 
sick? or my wife? or my sons? Nay, none of us. 
Be my friend, Squanto. See you do as I tell you. 
As I am a true man, I swear I will not send the 
sickness on you. But you must help me to go back 
to England, or beware! Did not all your people 
perish by the plague? 

Squanto. Ahhe. I alone am left. 

BiLLiNGTON. Then this soil was yours, these 
waters yours. Why should they not be yours again ? 
Will you not be King? 

Squanto. Me be King here? 

BiLLiNGTON. Ay, some day the English leave. 
This country is unfriendly to us. I want to go back. 
And many others think as I do. We have little 
grain left. Why should we stay here to starve ? 

Squanto. (Regarding him gravely, trying to 
sift the matter to the bottom) Mistress Billington 
want to go back, too ? 



THE HOME-MAKERS 55 

BiLLiNGTON. Ay. These prim people are for- 
ever prying into her affairs. 

Squanto. Yes, I hear her scold, scold, scold — 
scold — scold, like a red squirrel. 

BiLLiNGTON. (With slow insinuation) If this 
fire were Squanto's, Squanto would be well here. 
King! 

Squanto. King! King of what? All my peo- 
ple gone. I am English. I sit at white man's table, 
eat white man's food, learn about white man's God. 
White man give me presents. (Shows earring) 

BiLLiNGTON. If the white men go, as go they 
must, sooner or later, you can get your Indian 
friends to settle here. See, I give you presents. 
(He takes a handful of cheap trinkets from his 
pockets) In England, I'll have no use for them. 
And if we all go, we leave behind us our homes, 
palaces for your friends, all of you can live like 
Kings. Then Squanto would be no more alone. 
King Squanto ! 

Squanto. (Proposing to take the trinkets which 
BiLLiNGTON retains) What you want, me to do ? 

BiLLiNGTON. Ere many suns have set, the May- 
flower will sail. Why should she not take back 
this handful of strangers on your shores? Tell our 
English companions the Indians v^ll come again to 
till these fields. Tell 'em that as the ice leaves the. 
streams, they must leave these lands. Tell 'em 
the Indians will not endure their presence longer, 
that if they stay, they will be driven back into the 
forest. (Short pause) 

Squanto. Why not you tell 'em? 

BiLLiNGTON. I do tell 'em. They will not be- 
Heve me. 

Squanto. If they will not believe their white 
brother, how they believe me, poor Indian? 

BiLLiNGTON. Why — they fear you and your peo- 



56 THE HOME-MAKERS 

pie. ^Mrs. Brewster and Mrs. Carver come in, 
BiLLiNGTON signals a ivarning to Squanto with the 
key and sidles out. The women bring in clean 
linen which they put away in the chest. They stand 
to crease the sheets Mrs. Carver has carried over 
her shoulder) 

Mrs. Carver. "Dry sun, diy wind, 
Safe bind, safe find." 

Mrs. Brewster. If Billington would blow that 
trumpet and blow and blow, and blow himself up 
like a bladder till he burst, 'twould be good rid- 
dance. And his wife's a haughty body, a sloven for 
all I know. Never will she let me inside her door. 

Mrs. Carver. Mary, this sheet needs mending. 

Mrs. Brewster. Yes, put it one side. We can't 
buy new every day in this town. (The little girls 
run in with hunches of strawberry-leaves. They 
go confidently to SquantoJ 

Remember. For the pot. 

Brewster. (Entering) Dinner ready? 

Mrs Brewster. Ay, ready to dish up. 

Brewster. (Going to her affectionately ) 
"Good cook to dress dinner, to bake and to brew, 
Deserves a reward, being honest and true." 
(He kisses her) Where are the boys? I called 
them long ago. Have we to wait for them again? 

Mrs. Brewster. (Cheerfully) Ay, that we have. 
Again and again. Your father waited for you, 
I'll be bound, and they'll wait for their sons. Boys 
are always the same, from generation to generation, 
and, unless I miss the mark, so be men and women. 

CURTAIN 



ACT III 

The Departure of the Mayflower 
A new England For better for worse 

Scene. The same as in Act II, though the table- 
cloth has been removed. It is the afternoon of 
the same day. Squanto lies on the floor be- 
fore the fire, dozing. Mrs. Carver holding her 
knitting, is taking forty winks. Mrs. Brews- 
ter is sweeping up the dry leaves. Enter 
WiNSLOW in haste. 

WiNSLOw. The Mayflower is about to sail. 
('Mrs. Brewster bows her head on the handle of 
the broom and stands motionless. Mrs. Carver, a 
bit bewildered from her sudden awakening, goes to 
the window and looks out. Squanto sits up, at- 
tentive) 

Mrs. Brewster. When? 

WiNSLOW. Captain Jones is just coming ashore. 
He called to me from the shallop. Where is the 
Governor? 

Mrs. Carver. Here he comes. How now, hus- 
band? (^Governor Carver, wearing a dilapidated 
hat and shirt, bursts in, a hammer in his hand) 

Governor Carver. Jones says he's coming to 
say farewell. I'l bring him here to get our letters. 
We must receive him in state. Is the house swept 
and garnished? Where's my hat? We must be 
ready. (Excitement; he chooses a habit and hat 
that do not fit) 

Mrs. Brewster. Then the hour is come. (Go- 
S7 



58 THE HOME-MAKERS 

ing to the hearth) Where's the turkey's wing? 
Brush up, I pray you, Squanto. ("Squanto tidies 
the hearth) 

Gov. Carver. (After Ms ivife has made him pre- 
sentable) Hold, wife, I can do alone. 

Mrs. Carver. I do wish that your habit, to com- 
mand double respect, I wish it were topped by a 
neck-ruff. 

Gov. Carver. Sh! I'm not to sit for my por- 
trait. (He looks anxiously into the mirror, then 
steps to the door, where he turns about) Oh, should 
I not wear my belt and sword, think you? 

Mrs. Carver. Oh, my dear, I had forgot them. 
Pray wait a minute. (She fetches them from the 
chest and fastens them for him) Now you are in 
brave attire. 

WiNSLOW. A doublet on his back, a hat upon his 
head, mark how clothes create a governor ! 

Gov. Carver. I thank you, my love. I will re- 
turn shortly with the Captain. Have all in readi- 
ness. (He departs) 

Mrs. Carver. Oh, they may ask for music. 
Take the trumpet and follow, I pray you. f Wins- 
low takes it and goes, leaving the door open) 

Mrs. Brewster. Let us trim up the house. 

Mrs. Carver. Here is my mother's carpet. 
(From the chest they take a heavy green cover and 
spread it over the table. Mrs. Carver reverently 
places the Bible in the center. They put on a pair 
of candlesticks and a pewter platter. The roll of a 
drum is heard and soon the trumpet joins in. Mar- 
tial music at a distance. Mrs. Carver takes off 
her apron, shuts the chest, and goes to the flax- 
wheel. Mrs. Brewster straightens her cap before 
the mirror. Squanto gazes into the fire) 

Mrs. Brewster. (Kindly) Well, Squanto, my 
friend 



THE HOME-MAKERS 59 

Squanto. (Pondering) **If this fire were 
Squanto's, Squanto would be well here." 

Mrs. Brewster. But this fire is the Governor's 
and yet Squanto is well here. For, mark you, 
Squanto, if this fire were yours, you would have 
the burden of fetching the wood. 

Squanto. Ahhe, it may be so. 

Mrs. Brewster. And being Governor means be- 
ing a Joseph unto whom the whole company repairs 
when their corn fails them. Such a Governor makes 
his own private purse to be the public, not by suck- 
ing into it, but by squeezing out of it. Ay, as 
Luther says, "A Governor is a target at which the 
world and the Divil shoot all their darts." Trust 
me, Squanto, my friend, myself and you are well 
off as it is. (^Squanto shakes his head and sits on 
the stool at the extreme right in, deep thought, his 
face hidden. * The first stanza of the ancient Dutch 
hymn, "We Gather Together to Ask the Lord's 
Blessing" softly sung, indicates the approach of the 
procession which enters singing the second stanza, 
louder. Governor Carver leads in a dignified man- 
ner and takes the head of the table. He invites Cap- 
tain Jones to a position at his right, and Captain 
Standish at his left. Brewster follows Jones, and 
Winslow stands beside Standish. Bradford takes 
a position beside Winslow. Billington, followed 
by Ellen, looks for Squanto and goes over near 
him. Susanna finds an opening near Winslow. 
Mrs. Brewster crosses to her husband. Thomas, 
carrying a leather bag, and Martin stand on either 
side of the door. Other sailors may be introduced, 

* The singing may be omitted. This "Prayer of Thanks- 
giving," octavo 12,836, is published by Oliver Ditson Co., 
Boston, at ninety-six cents a dozen, or it may be had of the 
Pilgrim Press, Boston, in "Freedom and Peace," at six 
cents a copy. 



6o THE HOME-MAKERS 

also other Pilgrims, men, women, and children, to 
the number of twenty or thirty. The children pile 
in with an air of expectancy. The Brewster boys 
go to their parents, the Billington boys go to 
theirs. Remember and Mary run to Mrs. Brews- 
ter,, who tells them to sit quietly like good children 
on the bench. Priscilla and Mary Chilton, their 
arms entwined, enter. The little girls beckon fran- 
tically for the young women to join them. They go 
to them, but refuse to crowd on the bench. At the 
close of the third stanza, "0 Lord Make Us Free," 
sung at full volume, the music stops) 

Gov. Carver. My friends, you are welcome all. 
The hour of parting approaches. It is not given 
lis to foresee the future, but we cannot fail to look 
back and marvel at God's mercy in our preserva- 
tion. Our beginning has been difficult, our profit 
small. Not that we consider profit to be the main 
end of what we have undertaken, but the glory of 
God and the honor of our country. But it is meet 
to offer it for your consideration, for rare it is to 
find Religion and Profit jump together. Captain 
Jones, thou wilt be questioned by many for reports 
on our condition. Wilt thou tell them truly that it 
is here as with him that walketh London streets? 
though he be in the midst of plenty, yet if he lack 
means he is not better off by the sight of what he 
wanteth but rather has his sorrow increased. As, 
for example, it may be that in England rent and 
firing are so chargeable that a man cannot pay with- 
out great difficulty. Never considering that here, 
where we have no rent to pay, so he must build his 
house before he have it. And peradventure he may, 
with more ease, pay for his fuel there, than he can 
cut and fetch it home here, though here is no 
scarcity, but rather too great plenty. 



THE HOME-MAKERS 6i 

Jones. You would have me discourage those 
who strain for their passage hither? 

Carver. Nay, only those who undertake it with 
too great lightness. 

Jones. They would plunge themselves into a sea 
of misery. 

WiNSLOw. (Quickly) Nay, nay, do not discour- 
age such as would come to us with contented hearts, 
such as can work and drink water and go without 
delicates. (Looking at BillingtonJ Some already 
among us have their mouth full of clamors. Can 
any be so simple as to conceive that the fountains 
should stream forth wine or beer? or the woods be 
like butchers' shops ? or the rivers like fish-mongers' 
stalls? 

Jones. Fish ! do ye not yet know what wealth 
ye have before your doors? (Great interest) 

Bradford. Speak, friend. 

Jones. Fish in incredible abundance ! Cod in 
March, April, May, and cod again in September, 
October, and November to make Cor Fish or Poor 
John. And out of their bellies, I have taken herring. 
But indeed the herring are in numbers like the hairs 
of our heads. 

Standish. They seem to me but a contemptible 
commodity. 

Jones. (Affronted) Why, Standish ! and you a 
soldier of Holland! Who doth not know that the 
Hollanders, chiefly by fishing, are made a people so 
mighty, strong, and rich, as no state but Venice is 
so well furnished with so many fair cities, goodly 
towns, strong fortresses, and that abundance of 
shipping and merchandise, that would you but take 
the profit on your coast, I do engage my head you 
would all die rich men. But I entreat your par- 
dons, I am too tedious. 

All. No, no, nay. 



62 THE HOME-MAKERS 

Brewster. Fish would return an honest 
gain. 

Carver. When our eye was upon Virginia, and 
I got the Secretary of King James to beg his favor, 
His Majesty asked what profits might arise. It was 
answered, "Fishing." To which he repHed, "So 
God have my soul ! 'tis an honest trade. It was the 
Apostles' own calling!" So if His Majesty praised 
it by Gospel, shall we consider it too mean for us? 
Say on, good sea-captain. 

Jones. (Leaning acfoss the table to Standish, 
ironic) Well, my wise land-captain ! what say you 
to the army Holland has long maintained by sea and 
land in spite of one of the greatest princes of the 
world ? 

Standish. (Testy) A taste of that army, sir, 
should prove to you its worth. 

Jones. Ay, Captain, I owe it admiration, 
f Standish subsides, partly appeased) Look you, 
then, this same army, and ships that sail east and 
west, north and south, ay, about the world, are main- 
tained by the selling of this poor commodity. Their 
fish, they exchange for other goods as poor, — for 
wood, pitch, tar, rosin, cordage, flax : and such like, 
again exchanged with the Spaniards, French, Portu- 
gales, and English, return as gold, silver, pearls, 
diamonds, silks, velvets, and cloth of gold. And 
never could the Spaniard with all his mines of gold 
and silver, pay his debts, his friends, and army, half 
so truly, as the Hollanders still have done by this 
contemptible trade of fish ! 

Bradford. This is a mine'zve can work, let us 
but get the machinery. 

Mrs. Carver. I am not too old to spin a thread 
to catch them. 

Love. Nor I too young to hook them. 



THE HOME-MAKERS 63 

Bradford. (Eagerly) Tell the merchants, good 
Captain Jones, see they fail not to send us nets, 
lines, hooks, and salt. 

Jones. Ay, that I will. 

Brewster. Your counsel, though welcome, Caj>- 
tain, is tardy. 

Jones. Ay, but I came to transport a colony, 
not to govern it. Are your letters ready ? 

Carver. Yea, we will gather them together. (A 
general movement. Carver and Brewster take 
their letters from the desk, some draw them from 
their pockets. Standish, whose letters are thrust 
through his belt, throws thew^Anto the pewter plat- 
ter on the table. Winslow takes the platter and 
collects. He goes first to Susanna. They stand 
aside) 

Winslow. (Tenderly) I hope you have not 
writ your heart into these letters, Susanna. 

Susanna. (Coquetting) I hunted for it to put 
in, but it was lost. 

Winslow. If I track it and find it, must I re- 
turn it? 

Susanna. I offer no reward, sir. 

Winslow. Then findings shall be keepings, Sus- 
anna. (She smiles consent. He makes the round 
of the room. Mrs. Brewster draws her letter from 
her kerchief and kisses it) 

Ellen. Would we were going instead of the 
letters. 

BiLLiNGTON. Hold your peace. (He approaches 
Squanto, who stirs a little, but appears lost to the 
world) 

Bradford. I have writ to my boy about the safe 
return of Peter Brown and John Goodman when 
they were lost, and how the two wolves sat on their 
tails grinning at them. I hope that (With a sigh) 
will make him merry. 



64 THE HOME-MAKERS 

Win SLOW. (Scrutinising the addresses) Our 
beloved minister, John Robinson, will get a packet 
of news. 

Carver. Hast thou the letters, Winslow? 

WiNSLOW. Yes, Governor. 

Jones. Thomas, I put them in your charge. 

Thomas. Ay, ay, sir. (^Thomas steps forward 
end rests his bag on the table. The Governor and 
Winslow carefully place the letters mithin. It is a 
simple scene, but a solemn, this sending the first 
news from the Pilgrims back to the old home. More 
than one of the men finds a lump in his throat, and 
some of the women wipe azvay silent tears. Cap- 
tain Jones gruffly tries to break the tension) 

Jones. Well, we take leave. Well, Mistress 
Carver, give a thought now and again to your 
faithful sea-dog. Well, Priscilla, what will cheer 
me on a gray morning when I look for your rosy 
cheeks ? 

Priscilla. When you reach England, the roses 
will be waiting. 

Carver. Priscilla, dear maid, once again and for 
the last time, I must ask if it would not be a right 
course for thee to return to England, all thy family 
being here buried, and thou left homeless. 

Priscilla. (Brokenly) I do wish you could see 
my heart and how all its treasures are here. 

Mrs. Brewster. (With a motherly embrace) 
Rest thy heart, dear child. 

Carver. And thou, Mary Chilton, thou art left 
an orphan by this lamentable sickness, but thy mar- 
ried sister would hold out open arms to see thee re- 
stored to her from these perilous shores. 

Mary Chilton. (Bravely) Priscilla and I have 
been knit together in our sorrow. We will stay and 
comfort each other. (Gaily) Besides, if Priscilla 
and I return at the first chance and our history is 



THE HOME-MAKERS 65 

ever writ, would not the writer say, "The wives 
were fain to stay with their husbands, who held 
them to their duties, but the maids, look you! fled 
back to England and showed neither courage nor 
constancy !" and so all women should stand con- 
demned through us. 

Standish. Great Caesar! No Roman matron 
showed a braver spirit. 

BiLLiNGTON. (Taking Squanto roughly by the 
shoulder and speaking in his ear) Awake, Squanto. 
Look to what I told you. (He menaces him with 
the key) Awake, I say. ("Squanto stirs, then rises 
stately. He has not slept; he is animated by a 
spirit outside himself. His expression is rapt, his 
eyes luminous. Billington draws back a pace or 
two, amazed. The company waits, impressed, ex- 
pectant. He speaks as in a trance) 

Squanto. I speak what the white man would 
hear. ("Billington is uncertain. Squanto raises 
his arms in supplication) Kiehtan, help me. 

Brewster. (Awed) The Great Spirit speaks in 
him. 

Squanto. The English have carried this my 
body, to and fjo over the earth. Once have I been 
taken to Spain, twice to England, thrice here to 
Patuxet, mine own Patuxet. ("Billington is reas- 
sured) Always my spirit stay here in my own 
home. But my people, the great Pokanokets, 
boasted they were so many Kiehtan could not kill 
them. But the hand of Kiehtan fell upon them and 
they died on heaps, and the crows picked their 
bones and skulls. (Short pause) Now comes the 
English here. You are few. Dare you travel into 
the forest, into the enemy land of the Narragan- 
setts ? 

Brewster. Yea, we fear not the natives. 
Where there is true love, there is no fear. 



66 THE HOME-MAKERS 

Squanto. But if the Wampanoags come to 
you ? Dare you trust them ? Massasoit tell Gover- 
nor in eight or nine days, he and his people come 
on other side of brook and dwell there. 

Carver. With them, we have made a treaty of 
peace and love, and w^e will keep it. 

Squanto. If they keep it not? If they want 
white man's house and white man's tools? Twice 
Captain Dermer's great white bird sailed to Cape 
Cod, and Squanto, his friend, with him. Twice the 
In'dians broke with him and fought him. Twice 
Squanto saved his life. Now Squanto's Captain has 
gone to Kiehtan, far westward, and Squanto has 
come home. When your Captain and his white bird 
sail away, fear you not Indians fight and take back 
their land? 

BiLLiNGTON. Ay, what he says is true! I fear 
greatly 

Standish. Governor Carver, if any man wishes 
to return to England when the Mayflower hoists 
sail, dismiss him. We want no whipped curs who 
show fear. 

BiLLiNGTON. If we wcrc not few and feeble, — 
if the Speedwell had not sailed back to London 

Bradford. God's Good Providence ! What of it, 
if our small number like Gideon's army, was di- 
vided? Perchance the Lord thought these few too 
many for the great work He had to do. 

BiLLiNGTON. Who could blame us if we now 
leave this barren shore? 

Brewster. Bare as it is, here we have founded 
our homes and here in Christian faith we shall 
abide. And as we keep faith with God, our deliv- 
erer, so we must keep faith with our brethren in 
Leyden. For they have promised that they will 
come to us as soon as they are given opportunity. 

WiNSLOW. And did we not promise to help over 



THE HOME-MAKERS 67 

such as are poor, and old, -and willing to 
come? 

Bradford. Ay. Besides, let us pause and con- 
sider what other poor people may have their eyes 
fixed upon this venture of ours, being discouraged 
in their own land, and looking to a more goodly 
country to feed their hopes. (Pause) 

BI'llington. Shall our children feed, and thrive, 
on the sand and mussels of this coast? ("Brewster 
turns away in distress) 

Bradford. Man does not live by bread alone. 
Have we not all been hungry and thirsty and 
weary? But have we not all been held together by 
such love as is seldom found on earth? Be of good 
cheer, WiUiam Brewster. Our children shall praise 
the Lord who hath sustained us on this day. This 
day when the Mayflower hoists sail for England 
and leaves us Pilgrims here, shall be long remem- 
bered. Men will tell their sons in old England and 
in new England, too, that not one of us who had 
put his hand to this planting looked back. (Bil- 
LiNGTON bows hts head in shame) Thus may our 
children's children have courage to be steadfast in 
their undertakings. May not and ought not the chil- 
dren of these fathers rightly say, *'Our fathers were 
Englishmen which came over this great ocean, and 
were ready to perish in this wilderness, but they cried 
unto the Lord and He heard their voice, and looked 
on their adversity." ("Billington, behind Squan- 
TO, who has stood immovable, thrusts a handful of 
beads tozvards him,, Souanto^ with magnificent 
disdain, flings aside Billington's arm, and steps 
fvrzvard) 

Squanto. Now I know you are true men. 
Much kindness you give Squanto. Squanto is poor 
Indian, but Squanto can repay. Squanto will be the 
white man's guide and friend. Always the white 



68 THE HOME-MAKERS 

man will remember his poor brother. (The com- 
pany gathers round Squanto. He takes from his 
tunic an ear of yellow corn and holds it aloft) 
Squanto gives you Ewachim. We will save the 
white man. You tell of gold of Spain. This is gold 
of America. White man must set corn like my 
people or it comes to naught. My people have the 
secret. (Short pause) Spring is here. April smiles. 
The earth is warm. Soon little silver fish swim up 
the streams. (He breaks off a kernel of corn) One 
little grain of gold we take and two little silver fish. 
In the earth we hide them and we pray to Kiehtan 
to send water from on high. We men must keep 
the wolves away from the tempting fish. Soon up 
comes the green stalk and the silken ear, Ewachim 
and Life! 

Bradford. My friend, thou hast saved us. 

Brewster. Let the Lord have the praise, who 
is the high preserver of men. 

Jones. (Grasping Carver by the hand in leave- 
taking) You are instruments to break the ice for 
those who come after, and honor shall be yours to 
the end of the world. (He lets go Carver's hand, 
motions for the sailors to follozv him, and starts 
out) 

Carver. We will go with him, to the water's 
edge. ^Governor Carver and his wife and all the 
company, except Elder Brewster and Mistress 
Brewster, go out. As the Governor leaves the 
house, the chorus breaks forth into Luther's hymn, 
"A Mighty Fortress Is Our God." The music re- 
cedes. Before the last one has disappeared. Mis- 
'tress Brewster begins to put the room to rights. 
She smoothes the table-cover, which has become 
rumpled during the discussion. Meantime, as the 
light is growing dim, Elder Brewster lays more 
logs on the fire. Quietly and in perfect trust, they 



THE HOME-MAKERS 69 

go out hand in hand, leaving the door open. The 
firelight flames up and flickers across the table, shin- 
ing bright upon the gold tooling of the Bible) 

CURTAIN 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 



017 401 623 9 ^ 



